


how high

by helicases



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: (Failed) Meet-Cutes, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, M/M, Mark Lee is a walking hazard to himself and others, Team as Family, dragon dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 14:22:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23036041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helicases/pseuds/helicases
Summary: When the dragon head says jump, you say...
Relationships: Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Mark Lee
Comments: 12
Kudos: 53
Collections: Winwin Fic Fest Round 1





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #A135: _Mark desperately needs one more credit in cultural studies to complete his general requirements. In that case, Mark signs up for a Chinese folk dance class that may or may not have him tripping for the TA._
> 
> Many thanks to the mods, the friends who let me yell about this au, and my beta. Thank you for the encouragement and support. Sorry (not terribly sorry) for yelling so much. Thank you also to the prompter, for giving me something to get so excited about.

_ Sign up for this class _ , Yangyang had said,  _ it'll be fun and the stakes are low.  _ Renjun had vouched for him, saying that as long as Mark put forth effort, he'd get more exercise and the final set of credits he needed to complete his core requirements.  _ Who is Mark Lee, if not someone who tries really hard?  _ Yangyang had said while laughing.

Mark generally considers himself to be a reasonable person, but standing here under the sweltering sun, holding a staff aloft while sweat drips down his back, Mark thinks maybe he will actually strangle Yangyang the next time he sees him. Renjun is on thin ice; Mark is still kind of scared of him and Renjun did at least mention the words “more” and “exercise” when describing the class.

As luck would have it this semester, Chinese Folk Dance 1101 has cycled through its repertoire to focus on dragon dance instead of other forms of traditional dance. Mark remembers attending showcases during past semesters, and while the students looked amazing and worked hard, he's pretty sure they didn't have to practice outside like this. He hasn't run this much — and with a staff raised skyward no less — in so long. His arms feel like noodles already, and they've only just begun a crash course of foundational training. 

What might be worse is how during the second week of classes, the professor announces that their second TA is back from a trip and will finally be joining Xu Minghao to help. The professor sweeps their arms to the side theatrically and the second, mystery TA steps forward. 

Mark amends his previous, unacted upon threat to Yangyang's well-being when a shaft of sunlight hits mystery TA’s face and the bottle cap in Mark's hands finally twists off and goes flying. Mystery TA is not looking this way, but his profile alone is extremely handsome and looks kind of familiar. In fact, he looks a lot like Dong Sicheng, an upperclassman his friend Yukhei would not shut up about during a previous showcase. Something about fans and flips and being really fucking cool.

Mark's memory of that showcase is hazy because he was preoccupied with making sure Jeno and Jisung were feeling okay about their performance, but he remembers absently agreeing with Yukhei. Mark also remembers Yangyang teasing Yukhei about his crush for weeks. Mark knows this means Yangyang is aware of Sicheng’s existence and probably knows he's been a TA for multiple courses — possibly even courses Yangyang has taken. 

The point is: Yangyang is a dead man, assuming Mark's classmate doesn't kill him first for splashing water on him. No one but the two of them have noticed, which means his classmate might be able to get away with killing him if he strikes now. 

“Um,” Mark says eloquently to the person beside him. 

His classmate, who is also beautiful in a terrifying kind of way, raises an eyebrow at him and Mark gulps. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I'm pretty sure most of it got on me,” Mark offers, voice admirably only squeaking at the very end of his sentence. 

His classmate's gaze slides sideways toward the duo of TAs, sharpens, and snaps back to lock onto Mark. “You know what? It kind of does. I'm Ten — you can call me Ten-hyung.”

Ten smiles, bright and blinding, and Mark spills more water. This time, Sicheng and Minghao do notice, and Mark feels his face heat up. 

“We should stick together,” Ten continues, and Mark is too embarrassed not to agree. 

**

Jaehyun laughs, but not as hard as Johnny does when Mark flops onto their couch and whines about needing to change his workout regimen. Or start an entirely new one, honestly. 

“Cardio,” Jaehyun says, while Johnny wipes tears from his eyes. “You should do more cardio. That will probably help. Johnny, stop laughing.”

“I'm sorry, it's just that he said noodle arms and I had a vivid flashback to the ramen noodle blond, not-quite-perm he had years ago,” Johnny explains. 

Mark pulls the neck of his shirt up to cover his face and yells into the fabric. 

“Feel better?” Johnny laughs again. Mark can feel his ears burning and imagines they're about as red as his shirt. “Hey, come on. Look at me.”

Mark groans but lets go of his shirt. “What?”

“Jaehyun can meet you at the gym whenever I'm not there. We got this.”

“You're not just going to laugh at me some more?”

“Of course I am.”

Mark bites his lip and makes like he's really thinking about it, but honestly this is probably his best bet. He's not unfit, and it's not that he never works out; he just doesn't know how to make sure he doesn't let the rest of his dragon dance class down. Jaehyun is certainly one of his more visibly physically fit friends, and he and Johnny are good hype men when they're not dragging their friends — Mark included — or each other. Plus, there's always Jeno, who Mark is pretty sure has also offered to be a gym buddy at some point. Maybe he should cash in on all their offers; he watched a bunch of dragon dance competition videos last night (instead of studying) and knows he has plenty of room for improvement.

“Fine. Thanks. And you said more cardio?”

Jaehyun nods. “East campus is nice in the mornings. You could always go for a jog.”

“Okay.”

Except it's not okay because the next morning, Mark runs into one of his TAs. Literally. 

The sun had just risen and the light breeze had been welcome while it lasted. Mark had gotten his second wind and decided to do another loop around one of the east campus fields, which was his first mistake. Maybe he should have just gone back to his room, chugged some more water, and passed out for a one to three hour nap. He picked up speed rounding a corner, which was his second mistake. He raised an arm to wipe the sweat from his forehead, which was his third strike, and maybe he shouldn't have been out at all. 

Mark collides with another body and it feels like time slows down while he tries to maintain his balance and instead topples over and lands on his ass. 

“Excuse me, I didn't—”

“See me? I figured,” says the person he ran into, voice coming from somewhere above Mark's head. At least one of them had the balance needed to not fall over immediately. Mark looks up and suddenly he doesn't feel so bad about being on the ground. In fact, maybe it's better he's sitting down for this. 

Standing there in all his one hundred and seventy-eight plus centimeters of glory is his second TA, Dong Sicheng. He's just wearing fitted track pants and a dark sweatshirt, but he has no business looking as good as he does so soon after sunrise. Mark also has no business running without looking where he's going, so he can't complain. He wants to, though. This seems entirely unfair. 

Mark opens his mouth to apologize again and gets half an honorific title out before Sicheng shrugs. 

“Hyung is fine, if anything. No, I'm not upset. Yes, I'm fine,” he says, and Mark wonders — not for the first time — whether Sicheng can somehow read minds. He and Minghao almost always seem a step ahead of the students’ questions when they're in class, and two steps ahead of Wen Junhui whenever he shows up to flirt with either of them after class. Mark really hopes he can't read minds; he struggles enough with his brain to mouth filter without having to consider telepathy of any kind. 

“Are  _ you _ okay, though? You hit the ground kind of hard.”

Mark's face heats up and he squawks out a, “What? No, I'm okay. It's fine. I'm sturdy, this is nothing.” Internally he yells,  _ I'm sturdy? What the hell? _

To his dismay, Sicheng cracks a smile at that. “I guess so.”

“Not as sturdy as you,” Mark continues, and yep, no one should have let him leave his room this morning. He wants to cover his mouth to keep anything else from coming out, but he can feel grit from the path and maybe a little bit of grass from the field sticking to his palms. He can hear Johnny's voice calling  _ safety first, buddy _ in his head, and he hates that too. 

“It's just that you—” Mark begins, even though he's not sure why he's still talking. Where's Jeno when you need him to slap a hand over your mouth to shut you up, the way he's always ready to stop their friends Chenle and Jaemin before they really get going? He's surrounded by traitors and he's the worst offender of all. 

Sicheng frowns down at the phone in his hand. “I have to go,” he says, wiggling it a little. Mark's jaw clicks shut audibly. “See you in class.”

“Okay, I—”

“Maybe more practice will make you a little more…robust,” Sicheng interrupts, eyes flickering over Mark's still seated form. “Like me. Okay, bye!”

Dirt and grass be damned, the second Sicheng is out of view, Mark scrubs his hands through his hair and drags them down his face with a groan. It's time to go home. Mark almost runs into three other people en route to his apartment, but he doesn't say anything remotely embarrassing to any of them, so he's counting that as a success. 

**

The next couple of weeks are both a blur and also full of some of the longest days of Mark's life. Thankfully, he’s not the only one in his class who feels this way — Mark has a shiny new group chat with some of his classmates to prove that. He can also tell he's getting stronger, to the point that Johnny stops him in the doorway and squeezes his biceps, cooing loudly when Mark tries to pull away. 

“Jaehyun, look, not only has he made new friends in class, but our baby boy is getting—” he starts to call into his and Jaehyun's shared apartment. 

“Getting away! Bye hyungs!” Mark cuts him off and takes off running down the hall, narrowly dodging other residents. Not only is he stronger, but he's also much faster, as seen by the way he makes it out of the building before either Johnny or Jaehyun can come after him. 

He slows to a jog when the practice fields are in view, and slows to a walk when he spots some of his friends. He's got time to kill now, thanks to Johnny. In the distance, Mark sees Ten gesturing wildly at Taeyong, while Donghyuck and Renjun watch with thinly veiled amusement. Mark effortlessly dodges Donghyuck when he tries to go in for a kiss on the cheek, but he can’t miss Ten raising an eyebrow at the two of them or Taeyong rolling his eyes at their antics.

“I didn’t know you knew each other,” Ten says, smiling when Renjun yanks Donghyuck away from Mark by the collar of his shirt. Renjun skyrockets to the top of Mark’s mental Good Friends List.

“Who, Mark and Taeyong?” Donghyuck asks. “That’s Mark’s dad.” Mark and Taeyong squawk almost in unison, and Donghyuck squirms out of Renjun’s grasp to beam at Ten. “See?”

“I can see the resemblance.”

“So this is the ‘cute kid’ you’ve been teasing in class,” Taeyong says.

“You’ve got me.”

“I’m not cute,” Mark insists, which only makes the rest of them laugh. “I’m not.” Ten pinches his cheek and Mark swats his hand away, rubbing at his face.

“Thank you, Ten-hyung,” Donghyuck says, and Renjun pointedly does not restrain him from trying to lunge at Mark again. Renjun’s victory was short lived, and he drops back down a few ranks on Mark’s list.

“Anyway,” says Renjun, “Kun-gē said to tell you he might miss dinner tonight, Ten-gē. He’s got back to back mentor sessions with Dejun-gē and Chenle, and has to drop stuff off for Sicheng-gē after.”

Mark didn't realize Ten and Sicheng knew each other outside of class, but he supposed it makes sense. Renjun and Chenle are close with Kun, who Mark has now met a couple of times, and who he recently learned is dating both Ten and Jungwoo. Kun must be their bridge to Sicheng. It's almost like when you learn a new word and then you can't help but hear it everywhere — it's like suddenly everyone knows Sicheng and Mark can't go anywhere without hearing about him. Or maybe he just never noticed. 

“He’ll be missing out,” Ten sighs. “I hope Sicheng appreciates the sacrifices Jungwoo and I make.”

“You’re not making any sacrifices,” Taeyong says. “You and Jungwoo probably have leftovers Kun made earlier this week and don’t even have to consider cooking or ordering takeout. I bet he even left snacks for you because he knew he’d be out late.”

“Probably. Love that guy,” Ten grins. “He keeps Jungwoo and me well fed.”

“Gross,” Donghyuck says, and Mark is inclined to agree. He doesn’t trust the wicked angle of Ten’s smile and it doesn’t look like Taeyong does either.

Mark checks the time on his phone. “What’s also gross is how we might be late for practice.”

“Oh right, you’re practicing jumps today, aren’t you?” Taeyong asks. Mark nods, swallowing past the freshly nervous lump in his throat. “Good luck!”

“We’ll be fine,” Ten says, slinging an arm around Mark’s shoulders. “Sicheng said hardly anyone ever trips and injures themselves badly during the jumps in class.”

“That doesn’t actually make me feel better.”

“Sounds like a personal problem,” Ten shrugs.

“Bye,” Donghyuck waves. “Send lots of pictures if Mark-hyung falls.”

Ten promises he will, tugging Mark along as both Taeyong and Renjun hold Donghyuck back to prevent a scuffle. Ten doesn’t have to send any photos because Mark only  _ almost _ falls during their practice session. Mark watches carefully as their professor, the super subs, some volunteers from a previous semester, and their TAs in particular demonstrate one of the jumping moves. The front half of the dragon crosses back to jump over the back half of the dragon, with each person weaving precisely between other people to keep the dragon moving. When it’s their turn to try, much slower, Mark keeps his eyes trained on the swirling practice dragon and stays as light on his feet as he can.

Minghao tells them they’re doing well and can try to speed it up whenever they’re ready, and that plus agreement from Sicheng is enough to power Mark through the rest of practice.

**

All Mark can think about now, even in his dreams, is dragon dance routines and, by extension, his TAs and the elite, super substitute team. Everything in his dreams is abstract, but set to the beat of traditional drums, with the exception of one dream where everyone turned into actual lions and dragons and chased him around campus. Mark shudders and turns his attention back to class. He supposes overall, this low-key hyperfixation is good for his focus, but it also means that when they move from simple jumps to testing out other maneuvers, sometimes he’s too caught up on another aspect of the dance. Exhibit A: Mark loses his footing a little and bumps into Sicheng.

“Brace, but not on me,” Sicheng says, not unkindly, and nudges Mark over toward Chan, who he’s actually supposed to be working with.

“You okay?” Jieqiong asks, gently nudging both Mark and Chan into a better position for the low, back to back lift they’re supposed to try. Mark nods and shifts so Chan has more surface area with which to support himself. “Okay, good. You don’t want to fall.”

“Please don’t,” Chan agrees, deadpan. Mark waits until Jieqiong has joined the other super subs before dropping one shoulder to make Chan yelp in surprise. “Hey.”

“I’ve got you,” Mark laughs, squaring back up so Chan can lean back more comfortably, lift the pole above them, and swirl it around a bit. Chan rolls off his back and they trade places so Mark can get a feel for the lift as well.

“You’d better.”

By the end of the day, the students with stronger acrobatic backgrounds and perhaps too much trust in people like Mark have attempted many types of lifts. They don’t go anywhere near the advanced maneuvers Mark has seen in dragon or lion dance championship performances, but Mark is beginning to see just how cool they’re going to look at the end of the term. He even feels confident enough to brace his back against one of the other students so Tzuyu can carefully step up onto his thighs to lift and swirl their segment of the dragon around, high above their heads. Mark has never been more grateful he’s never been allowed to skip leg day with his gym buddies.

“Alright, break for cool down,” Minghao calls, clapping his hands together.

“Oh thank god,” Mark pants, and Tzuyu laughs, dropping lightly to the ground beside him.

“Thanks for not dropping me,” she says, patting him on the shoulder. 

“I’ve never dropped anyone!” Mark protests, and Ten barks out a laugh. “I work out! You can trust me!”

“I trust you to join us on our cool down run,” Ten says, and Mark huffs, following the rest of their team over to put the practice dragon away.

Mark’s always appreciated that the TAs join them on their three kilometer cool down runs, and he’s preoccupied enough watching Minghao and Sicheng squabbling at the front of the pack to not be fully attentive to the conversation happening between Ten and Tzuyu, with him in between. He finishes the run mostly with muscle memory and subtle herding where he’s sandwiched between his classmates. Mark barely even notices Junhui, Jieqiong, and Xiao joining the pack at the halfway point, but he does notice Junhui flirting with Minghao and Sicheng again, mostly because Minghao starts yelling at him.

“It’s so hot,” Mark hears Tzuyu say, and he agrees. He’s been trying to ignore the sweat dripping down his face and back, but now it’s all he can think about, especially as they slow to a stop.

“Cooled down enough?” Ten asks, and Mark turns to face him just in time for Ten to dump a bottle of water over his head.

“Hey!” Mark sputters. 

“Hi, I’m just helping,” Ten laughs. Mark refuses to admit he does feel a little less like he’s at risk of heat exhaustion.

“Be less helpful,” Mark whines, and takes several wary steps back when he notices the second water bottle in Ten’s hands.

“Relax,” Ten says. “That one was for cooling down and this one is to help me stay hydrated. You’re welcome.”

“For what? I have to meet up with people after this and can’t go home first.”

“Oh, poor baby. I’ve got an extra shirt. Come on.” Ten looks around for his back so he can rummage through it. “Come on, take it off.” He snaps his fingers after finding and holding up the promised spare.

Mark huffs but complies, trying to peel off his soaked shirt. “‘You’re welcome’ for what?” he repeats, struggling to get the shirt over his head.

“Tzuyu-yah, can you hold this?” Ten asks, and then clucks at Mark impatiently, swatting his hands away. “What are we going to do with you? Can’t even take your wet shirt off without help,” he teases. 

Mark would argue, but he’s already stumbled a little and probably does need help so he can put on a dry shirt. He's no longer quite sure which way is up and where he's facing in relation to the classmates helping him. Mark hears Junhui whistling somewhere behind them, and he is almost grateful he’s semi-trapped in his shirt so no one can see him turning red. At least Junhui is an equal opportunity flirt. 

Ten forces Mark to stand still so he can finish freeing him from the confines of his wet shirt. Mark turns away politely to shake excess water from his hair before snatching the dry shirt from Tzuyu so he can tug it over his head.

“Not bad,” Ten says, patting Mark’s abdomen fondly. Mark scowls at him and Ten tugs at his shirt collar instead. “You’d be cute without the shirt too, though.”

There’s the sound of a crunching water bottle behind them, followed by Minghao and Junhui’s laughter.

“Thanks?” Mark says, uncertain.

“No problem, sweetheart.” Ten winks and shoves the wet shirt back into Mark’s hands.

“Who needs dramas when you’re providing free entertainment right here?” Tzuyu says.

Mark narrows his eyes at Ten. “Is this payback? For — you know.”

Ten grins wider. “No, but you’re welcome.”

Mark thanks him warily but suspects Ten is not just talking about the loaned shirt. He decides it’s better not to know and lets the subject drop. It’s safer this way.

He gets back at Ten during the next practice session; everyone gets a turn running the head of the dragons and Mark flips his around to bite at Ten’s arm.

“Cute! But you’ll only catch me once,” Ten says, and he’s right. He's just so fast and Mark is just one boy, trying to lead a dragon around to nip at his heels. 

**

“There are signs on all the machines and I know—”

“—how to read?” Jeno interjects. 

Mark punches him in the arm and Jeno winces, laughing. “I know how to use them and if not, I can read. Stop hovering, oh my god. Don’t you have your own workouts to do?”

“We just want to make sure you're safe,” Jaehyun says. “And that we help upgrade those noodle arms.”

“I hate this. I hate you guys,” Mark huffs, turning back to the survey the machines and the rest of the gym setup. It’s nice, sectioned off neatly and stocked with plenty of wipes to clean equipment off between uses.

The three of them start out slow and steady, but Jaehyun pokes the small of Mark’s back as he’s gearing up for chin-ups, making Mark drop back down from the bar to defend himself. Jeno spots him when they break to switch to weights, and Jaehyun watches closely from beside the benches. The hovering doesn’t last for long, though; later, Mark very nearly punches Jaehyun in the gut when setting up and starting his first set of cable lateral raises. Jeno cackles at Jaehyun’s offended expression, but they give Mark more space to move freely without them looming over him.

“Form’s a little sloppy, but you're doing great,” Jaehyun calls from where he’s adding weights to a different machine nearby. 

“No it's not,” Mark argues. 

“Hate to say it but I agree with Mark-hyung,” Jeno tells Jaehyun. “He’s doing fine. Maybe we should let him be for now.”

“If you tell anyone else, I’ll deny it, but this is why you’re my favorite,” Mark says before switching sides to start his next set.

“Don’t lie. We know who your favorites are,” Jeno smiles, all crescent shapes and warmth, and Mark very maturely sticks his tongue out at him. Jeno laughs and gives him a little wave before stepping away. “Put in your earphones, old man. Go ahead and finish this chunk of your workout without us. We'll meet up at the end.”

Mark does just that, and focuses enough that when he decides to take a water break, he looks around and realizes he has no idea where Jeno or Jaehyun have gone. He also has no idea where the water fountains are, so he wanders slowly, peering around corners and through stretches of gym equipment for familiar faces or signs. He sees a couple of classmates from his music composition classes and one from Chinese Folk Dance 1101, but no Jaehyun or Jeno. Mark isn’t even entirely sure where the bathrooms are, even though he remembers seeing some near the locker area when they first came in. He frowns, stepping back into the main walkway just in time to collide with someone coming in from the front lobby.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Mark apologizes, and when he looks up, he’s not even a little bit surprised to see that he has once again walked directly into his TA. This is unfortunately becoming a habit he can’t seem to break. You would think his improvements in strength, speed, and grace would help, but no. He’s cursed and he’s alone.

“Hi,” Sicheng says, one corner of his mouth curled up like he’s thinking about smiling but not committed to the idea yet. “Looking for something?”

_ Not you, but here we are _ , Mark thinks. “Water?” he says instead.

Sicheng does smile at that, and nods over in the direction of some of the fitness classrooms. “Do you not come here often?” he asks, starting to walk away.

Belatedly, Mark jogs to catch up with him. “Not to this gym, no. Some friends brought me today, but they abandoned me,” Mark scowls.

Sicheng hums, looking skeptical. “Sure.”

“Really, hyung,” Mark whines, stopping next to him at the pair of water fountains.

“If you say so,” Sicheng shrugs, uncapping his water bottle so he can fill it up. 

“I do,” Mark huffs, before bending down to drink some water.

“Hopefully they come back soon, then. Can’t have you wandering around, bumping into things, can we?”

Mark straightens back up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I said—”

“That you’re sorry, I know,” Sicheng laughs again. “But really, have you had your vision checked recently?”

Mark rubs the back of his neck, nose scrunching up as he tries to remember the last time he had an eye exam. “I think so?”

“I was mostly joking,” Sicheng says, “but maybe you should give it another go.”

“I don’t run into people all the time,” Mark insists.

“And what am I?”

“Special?” Mark tries, and he manages to go a few seconds before feeling his face flush.

“Thanks, I think?” 

Someone calls Sicheng’s name from within one of the classrooms near the back of the building, and Sicheng sighs. “I’ve got to go. Good luck, and think about that eye exam.”

“I can see just fine,” Mark says, “but thank you.”

The person in the distance calls for Sicheng again, and he gives Mark a little mock salute before nodding and heading back to them. The voice sounds vaguely familiar, but Mark can’t place where he’s heard it before.

“Was that Sicheng you were talking to?” asks another voice — Jaehyun, and Mark spins around to glare at him. 

“Where did you go?” he hisses. 

Jaehyun frowns. “Upstairs? Did we not tell you?”

Jeno pops up then, grinning slyly. Mark chooses to ignore him. “You were gone for so long and you just  _ left _ me here.”

“Hyung, you said you knew how to use the machines,” Jeno shrugs, shit-eating grin still out in full force. 

“Which one of these is used for fighting disrespectful dongsaengs?” he replies. 

“Oh, so scary.”

“Shut up, Jeno.”

“Boys,” Jaehyun says with a deeply fake, solemn tone. “No fighting. That’s for next week.”

“I hate you,” Mark says. “Where are we going now?”

Jaehyun herds Jeno and Mark over to do a couple sets of rope hammer curls to round out their workout before a cardio cool down, and it’s there that Mark glances up and makes eye contact with Sicheng across the gym, coming out of one of the classrooms to head into a different one. He doesn’t think he’s imagining the way Sicheng jolts a little at the eye contact, but he suspects the pink flush across Sicheng’s face is most likely due to exertion. Mark vaguely remembers Jeno talking about how intense all the intermediate and advanced dance classes are. It is, objectively, a good look on him, though.

Mark tunes back in in time for Jaehyun to announce that they’re finally done and he’s sure Johnny would be very proud of him if he were here. Jaehyun offers to start a video chat with Johnny so he can tell them himself, but Jeno looks over at Mark and rolls his eyes. Jeno dodges Jaehyun’s playful swipes, and Mark doesn’t feel as bad about the burn in his arms and shoulders now. Instead, he watches fondly as Jeno shadow boxes around Jaehyun, and he doesn’t intervene except to hit back when Jeno accidentally gets him in the side.

“Wow, all that work is paying off. That almost hurt,” Jeno jokes, and Mark fake-lunges at him, laughing when Jeno trots away toward the track for their cool down run.

**

Mark scoops up the drink carrier in one hand and his own coffee in the other before nodding at the barista and pivoting to head for the door. He’s checking over the contents of the carrier — an Americano with more shots of espresso than Mark is comfortable thinking about for Jaemin, something less stressful for Donghyuck, tea for Renjun, and nothing for Jeno, who insisted at least seven times that he was fine and should not be allowed any more caffeine — when his luck strikes again. And by strikes, he means he hears a soft sound of surprise right before bumping into something.

Thankfully, Mark is awake and alert even without drinking the coffee he's carrying, so he's able to right the wobbling drink carrier and tighten his grip on the other cup before spilling anything. He freezes, and the only thing that drops is some condensation from the side of his iced coffee. 

“Wow.”

Scratch that, two things drop — the second being a little more of Mark’s dignity. He looks up and yep, that's Sicheng. 

“Hi, hyung,” Mark says meekly, hand flexing nervously around the drinks he’s carrying.

“You didn't spill anything this time,” Sicheng says wryly. “Not even a near miss. I’m almost impressed.”

Mark feels his face heat up. “Yeah, I — I've got you,” he laughs out loud, but on the inside, he wishes for the sweet embrace of death. The drinks aren’t worth it — he knows he’s being dramatic, but he’d rather the earth swallow him whole. How many of his TAs and classmates think he's too clumsy to be allowed out in the general public?

“I guess you do,” Sicheng says. “Heading out?”

“Yeah, I’ve got to drop these off. Thanks,” Mark says when Sicheng holds the door open for him. 

Sicheng has one drink to Mark’s four, and he sips at it thoughtfully before saying, “I mean, I assumed those weren’t all for you. I’d be a little worried if they were.”

Mark snorts. “No, these are for the demons. Sometimes I bring offerings to appease them. It’s rough.”

“Of course,” Sicheng says dryly.

Mark looks up to better gauge Sicheng’s reaction and is pleased to note that he's smiling. His hair is also getting much lighter in color, emphasized by the early afternoon sunlight. If it were anyone else, Mark would say something about how nice it looks, but he knows his luck isn’t great, especially where Sicheng is involved. He knows the compliment would come out jumbled, so he bites his tongue and brings his coffee up to take another sip instead. Also, he really does not want to make Sicheng uncomfortable. He hasn’t failed in that respect yet, so he definitely doesn’t want to break that streak now, even if the light brown really suits Sicheng.

“Oh, I’m going this way,” Mark says abruptly, realizing they’ve almost passed the path he needs to take to get back to his friends. “Sorry again.”

“No worries,” Sicheng says. “Don’t forget we’re meeting in the lecture hall for the next session.”

“Got it,” Mark beams at him, because he put a reminder in his calendar and everything, and is a little surprised to see a flicker cross Sicheng’s usually pleasant but neutral expression. “See you then?”

Sicheng shakes his head a little, as if clearing his thoughts, before nodding. “Be careful with those,” he says, and Mark brings the drinks closer to his chest.

“I’m always careful.”

“If you say so.”

“Bye, Sicheng-hyung,” Mark calls, already turning away to go. If the buzzing in his pocket is anything to go by, Jaemin and Donghyuck are waiting impatiently for him to return.

“Bye, Mark,” Sicheng laughs, and the sound carries Mark back to his friends and another long night of studying.

Jaemin grabs the mildly horrifying Americano from Mark with the desperate hands of a dying man, settling only when Renjun shoves at him until he’s sitting down again. Donghyuck starts to whine when Mark hands Jeno the single doughnut he’d wrapped and placed in his pocket at the café, but quiets down when he sees the way Jeno’s face lights up.

“I didn’t want to come back empty handed,” Mark shrugs.

“Get back in here, dumbass,” Donghyuck says, scooting over to let Mark reclaim his seat. “What took you so long, anyway?”

“Ran into someone,” Mark says, busy pulling out his laptop and notebooks.

“Again?” Renjun asks.

“Shut up or I’m taking your drink back.”

“I already spit in mine,” Jaemin says.

“Nobody wants your devil water, Nana,” Jeno snorts, and Donghyuck leans into his side to laugh.

“You don’t have to be rude,” Jaemin scoffs.

“I’m trying to study,” Renjun says, raising a hand to cover Jaemin’s mouth without even looking up from his textbook. Mark takes that as his cue to put in his earphones, boot up his laptop, and join them.

**

Mark joins Ten and Tzuyu on the floor where the rest of the class is sitting in a wide circle. They never use the lecture hall, but they’re here today for a planning meeting. The students watch with amusement as Minghao bodily removes Junhui from the room. It's unclear why he dropped by this time, but Mark understands wanting to visit friends. He's had to talk a couple of his younger friends out of trying to sit in on his elective lectures before, not to mention the times Johnny has jokingly tried escorting him to class or practice. 

Mark cracks up at Sicheng’s little wave right before he slams the door to keep Junhui out. Ten smacks his wrist to get Mark to stop moving so he can continue drawing on his arm. Mark settles down, excited to see what Ten designs next, and leans back so Tzuyu can watch too. She makes an appreciative noise as Ten twists Mark’s wrist to sketch the loop of a dragon’s tail around it.

At the front of the room, Minghao is also sketching, but his work quickly becomes a couple of diagrams on the whiteboard. The rest of the students, like Mark, Ten, and Tzuyu, wait for him to finish so they can go over logistics for the upcoming festival.

Mark is glad he doesn’t have to sit for a written exam for this course, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous about their final. Their professor had told them about a cultural arts festival scheduled near the end of the term, and now they’re here to assign positions and teams for their performance. The dragon dance at the festival will be more of a participation grade than anything, but it’s clear Mark and the rest of the class want to do well. Everyone is taking it very seriously and honestly, the class is starting to feel a bit less like a room full of strangers and more like a family. Distant family maybe, but still, thankfully, warm. 

It’s easy to decide to split the team into two dragons, but deliberation over who will take the heads and who will run the pearl takes longer. They’ve been practicing together for almost an entire semester, so Mark feels he has a pretty good read on the strengths of his classmates, as well as a better handle on his own. Someone asks if the elite, super substitute team usually spares someone to carry the dragon’s pearl, and Sicheng shakes his head.

“We’re here to help, but this is your chance to give people a show,” he says, and a murmur of understanding passes around the circle of students.

“I think Ten should carry the pearl,” Mark says, surprising himself and Ten as well, if the way Ten drops his wrist suddenly is any indication. Miraculously, only Mark’s ears and not his entire face grow warm when Sicheng, Minghao, Jieqiong, and Xiao all turn to look at him expectantly.

“Go on,” Sicheng prompts.

Mark swallows heavily, but then he thinks about all the times he’s pushed his other friends — is Ten his friend too? Mark hopes they’re friends — to get the roles and recognition they deserve, and he channels that. Jaemin, who often does the same for Mark, would be proud. Insufferable, but proud.

“He’s fast,” Mark begins, ignoring Ten’s snort from next to him. “He’s really fast and agile, and his turns have gotten pretty fluid. All the practice we’ve been doing has only improved his agility and acrobatics, and he’s been able to add more flourishes than before. Ten-hyung’s dancing as part of a dragon and in general is so nice, but I think — I think he’d run the pearl beautifully. Any one of us could, but especially him.”

Mark glances over, a little worried he’s overstepped, but he sees Ten studying the floor, tracing circles on it with a finger. His cheeks have more color in them than they did a few minutes ago, and a small smile is tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Honestly, I agree,” Minghao says, and Mark looks back up at the TAs and other super subs. Minghao looks almost fond, but Sicheng’s brow is furrowed slightly and he’s frowning. His face goes carefully blank when he registers the eye contact from Mark, and then it’s Mark’s turn to frown.

“Any other suggestions?” Minghao asks. Another murmur goes around the room and soon, they’re all in agreement. 

Minghao writes their names neatly, split across two dragons, with Ten at the center in a perfectly round pearl. The super subs will step in and change out with the regular students where necessary, but Jieqiong and Xiao both assure the class they probably won’t be needed. They’ll mostly watch from the sidelines. In a few weeks, everything will be ready. It’ll be go-time.

When it’s time to head out for the night, Mark grins when he catches Minghao and Sicheng’s eyes near the door. Sicheng looks startled for a second before smiling back, and Mark almost stumbles at how unexpectedly bright the response is.

Ten laughs, herding Mark closer to the door with a hand at the small of his back before he can actually trip and fall. “Let’s go, beautiful boy.”

“That’s you,” Mark says instinctively.

“Oh wow,” Tzuyu says dryly. “When did you get so charming?”

“I’m always charming,” Mark says, and he sees a water bottle drop out of the corner of his eye, followed by a loud burst of laughter from Minghao. The only reason Mark can understand part of what he says next is because Renjun had translated for him once when some of their Mandarin-speaking friends had started a loud and dramatic argument at a restaurant.

“ _ Jealous _ ?” Minghao says, the same way Yangyang had, delighted when their other friends seemed outraged that he was the only one to get extra dumplings from the cute server.

“ _ Shut up _ ,” Sicheng responds, just like how everyone involved in the argument at the restaurant switched over to frantic hushing when they realized the cute server knew Mandarin too.

“It’s fine,” Ten says loudly. “My boyfriends would agree. I’ll be sure to tell them.”

Minghao laughs again, but louder, and this time he’s joined by Jieqiong and Xiao.

“Let’s go,” Ten continues. “I’ve got a pearl to practice carrying  _ beautifully _ .”

“Shut up,” Mark echoes Sicheng.

“Please,” Tzuyu rolls her eyes. “You’re flattered. Mark, he’s flattered. Ten-oppa, don’t pretend otherwise.”

“Why do my dongsaengs only use honorifics with me when they’re being rude?” Ten sighs.

“You have to earn respect,” Mark says, thinking of Jisung and his refusal to use honorifics with anyone in their friend group who is within a couple of years of him in age, and he darts ahead, laughing when Ten reaches over to pinch him.

**

“Nervous?” Chan asks, and Mark jumps. “Oh no.”

“How long have you been standing there?” Mark asks, hand over his heart, willing it to stop beating so fast. 

“Not long,” Chan laughs. “Yes? Nervous?”

“Maybe a little,” Mark admits. “You?” 

He recognizes the tilt to Chan’s careful shrug and the way he bites his lip. They’re all a little nervous, except for Ten maybe, but he’s an enigma and Mark has long since stopped trying to figure out what’s going on with him. “It’ll be fine,” Mark says, and is pleased when the tension in Chan’s shoulders eases. “We practiced. I won’t drop you.”

“If you do—”

“I’ll buy you food,” Mark says.

“I won’t forget,” Chan replies, smile losing the last of its strain. “Don’t trip.”

“Oh my god, that was one time!” Mark cries. “And I tried to comfort you.”

“Yah, you’ll be fine,” Chan laughs. “And thank you.”

“Speaking of food,” says Minghao, appearing beside them, presumably to check that they're ready. “We're all going out for celebratory hot pot after the festival. Ha seonsaeng-nim and our treat. We'll talk about timing after. Good luck today!”

Chan brightens even further and Minghao’s already warm expression softens. He ruffles Chan’s hair as Xiao hurries over to shoo him away.

“Shirts tucked in, and make sure your shoes are tied,” Xiao says, circling them to make sure they’re prepared. “You’ll be more comfortable and probably safer that way.”

Having deemed them sufficiently prepared, she pats both of their shoulders and sends them off to join the rest of their team in one of the larger festival tents. Tzuyu is with the green dragon team already, stretching with the help of one of the girls. Ten is waiting with her too, switching from squats to stretching out his back and arms. He nods at them as they approach and takes it upon himself to fuss over Mark’s hair until it looks “cute enough.”

“Stop, it’s fine!” Mark laughs, ducking away.

“ _ Now _ it’s fine. You’re welcome.”

The two teams — one carrying green for a good harvest, and the other carrying a gold dragon for prosperity — gather to wait for final words of instruction and encouragement from their professor and the super subs. The festival is in full swing around them, and Mark is grateful he had time to explore the stalls on the first day without getting too caught up with anxiety for the second day and their imminent performance.

“The moment you’ve all been waiting for,” Ha seonsaeng-nim says, solemn only long enough to pull out and hand the pearl staff over to Ten. “Carry it well,” they say, and Ten nods. “You’ve practiced all semester and you probably have had the traditional songs stuck in your heads all week. Use that to your advantage and maybe try to have a little fun out there.”

Mark bumps his shoulder against Chan’s when he sees him starting to tense up again, and Chan grimaces. He nudges him once more and grins when Chan finally bumps him back.

“Let’s get it,” he says, and Chan cackles.

Ten leads the two teams out to the sound of a steady drum roll and scattered cheers. They take their starting positions, fraternal twin dragons curled up next to each other with heads held high, and from there, it’s muscle memory. That, and the adrenaline rush from following the changing beat of the drum and waiting for signals from the dragon heads and tails.

Mark only almost trips twice as they twist and turn, looping back to cross over segments of their own dragon and the other team’s dragon. He doesn’t even run into any of the super subs as they swap places with other members of the teams. With each jump that he clears, his confidence grows. Even though his arms are starting to get tired, when the green dragon’s head says they’ve got one more jump, all the team can do is ask: “How high?” 

Mark makes the last and arguably most dramatic leap without worrying about missing a step. The music reaches a crescendo and then stops abruptly as they strike their final poses, chests heaving almost all in unison. Ten is held aloft by one of the taller, stronger, and in general just larger students, with the pearl raised high above their heads. The two dragons rear up, mouths open and pointed at the pearl, frozen in the pursuit of (the pearl of) wisdom. There’s a beat or two of silence before the crowd roars, and Mark smiles so wide his face starts to hurt.

**

Thankfully, Ha seonsaeng-nim sends everyone off with instructions to shower and change before meeting up at a nearby hot pot restaurant. Mark is mobbed by his friends when he emerges from the tent with his classmates, and he has to take off running to keep Yukhei from literally picking him up and swinging him around. Yangyang tries to tell him he should be grateful that he and Renjun recommended the class, and Mark doesn’t hesitate to put him in a chokehold until he promises to drop it. Only Jaemin and Donghyuck really sulk when they hear he’s going to a class or team-only dinner, but they still shake him by his shoulders and tell him he did a spectacular (Jaemin) and an okay (Donghyuck) job.

“He’s beauty, he’s grace, he didn’t fall on his face!” Yukhei cries, and Mark can’t help but laugh.

“I really do need to go shower and change, but thank you so much for coming,” Mark says.

Donghyuck wrinkles his nose and lets go of Mark. “Yeah, you should. You reek.”

“Okay, we’re leaving now,” Jeno says, pulling Donghyuck away.

Mark makes it back to his apartment in record time, showering and drying his hair as quickly as he can. He pats eye cream and moisturizer onto his face, scrubs a hand through his hair to try to calm it down, and changes into plain but not too casual clothes before heading out again.

The restaurant is easy to find, and not just because there’s a crowd of familiar faces waiting outside for their professor and the super subs.

Ten slings an arm around Mark’s shoulders, as has become his habit over the past couple of months. “Aren’t you going to tell me what you thought?” he asks.

“You did great,” Mark says, sounding more exasperated than he actually is. Ten killed it out there — Mark knows it, Ten knows it, and everyone who watched probably knows it.

“I did,” Ten says. “And now I’m hungry.”

“Me too,” Mark admits just as his stomach begins to growl.

The class files into the restaurant and settles across several long tables, hot pot stations set up between them. Mark is too far away to hear the specifics of his professor’s speech, but he gets the gist of it and feels warm with pride. Soon, they’re descending upon the food with the enthusiasm reserved for people who just spent a lot of time running around in the summer heat, trying to channel the spirits of dragons.

Minghao and Sicheng make their rounds after a few trays of food have been cooked and consumed, and thankfully Mark has no food in his mouth when they approach his table. Unfortunately, Ten has also claimed Mark’s chopsticks and is refusing to return them.

“Take it back,” Ten says.

“What?” Mark cries. “I’m not taking it back! You  _ are _ weird for not liking fruit! Smoothies have fruit in them! I’ve seen you eat things that have fruit inside.”

“Why are we even talking about fruit when we’re eating hot pot?” Ten asks, clutching Mark’s chopsticks closer to his chest.

“You brought it up,” Chan and Tzuyu say in unison from next to Ten and Mark, respectively.

“If you want them back,” Ten says, ignoring them, “give us three sets of aegyo.”

Mark sputters. “Maybe I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Your stomach literally just growled again and you haven’t eaten much yet, but go off. Come one, only three. I’ve been meaning to get you to do this since Renjunnie told Kun-gē and me you were actually very cute.”

“That’s a lie. Renjun has never called me cute in his entire life, except under duress,” Mark says.

“Three sets, Marcus.”

“You shouldn’t be allowed to hang out with Donghyuck and the rest of them any more,” Mark groans, but he knows he’s lost. Tzuyu and Chan are eyeing them with interest and a little bit of apprehension, and Ten already looks like he’s won this round.

He goes through the three sets rapid-fire, face heating up. Ten happily holds out his chopsticks when he's done and Mark snatches them back, glowering.

“Are we interrupting something?” Minghao says, and Mark looks up to see him and Sicheng standing next to their table with twin expressions of amusement and mild horror. 

“No,” Mark says, relieved when his voice stays steady.

“Good,” says Minghao, and Sicheng cracks a smile.

“You did a great job,” Sicheng says while Minghao talks to Ten about maybe signing up for one of the more advanced classes next semester. 

“Thanks,” he says after a delay in which his mind is only able to produce static and white noise. Sicheng graciously ignores the awkward pause, and that feels like another victory to add to today's list.

“I meant with the festival, and not with whatever that was just now. Is Ten-gē sure Renjun thinks you’re cute?”

“Oh my god.” Mark puts his chopsticks down and buries his face in his hands.

“It’s fine,” Sicheng laughs. “I’ve seen much worse.”

“Are we sure I didn’t die during the festival? Because maybe that would be better,” Mark says into his bowl, his head still bowed.

“Aish, don’t be so dramatic. Even I’ve seen worse aegyo,” Chan calls across the table.

“There’s always room for improvement,” Tzuyu agrees. “Or for it to never happen again.”

“That might be best. Be cute in other ways,” Sicheng says.

“Good luck,” says Minghao. “And don’t let Junhui see you. He already thinks you’re adorable. I’ve tried getting him to shut up about how great our students are this semester because I already know, but alas.”

“Aw, you think we’re great?” Chan simpers. “I’ll be sure to let Soonyoung-hyung know you’re back to being nice to his dongsaengs again.”

“Don’t test me,” Minghao says. To the rest of their table, he adds, “Good job. Eat well. Goodnight.”

“Thank you,” they chorus, and Mark overcomes his mild embarrassment enough to smile back at Minghao and Sicheng before they leave.

“Jaehyun told me to tell you and Ten that he’s proud of you,” Sicheng says, “and he said other things, but it looks like you’ve suffered enough.”

“Okay, bye. Goodnight, Sicheng-hyung,” Mark says over the sound of Ten’s raucous laughter. “See you around.”

“Probably,” Sicheng says over his shoulder, following Minghao back to their table. 

The semester draws to a close much in the same way it began — with warmth, embarrassment at Mark’s expense, and laughter — but with the added bonus of what feels like a new family. Maybe Yangyang is off the hook now for not giving Mark more details and advanced warning of what exactly Chinese Folk Dance 1101 would entail. He’s got good food, good friends, and a good view of the admittedly, distressingly nice smiles of the people around him, and it’s been at least a week since the last time he had a near miss or actual collision with anyone — Dong Sicheng included.  _ It’ll be fun _ , Yangyang had said, and he wasn’t wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

Yuta whines high and loud, and carries on like this until both Dongyoung and Sicheng clap a hand over his mouth to shut him up. His expression turns smug and they immediately release him for fear of being licked.

“Fine, I'll go,” Sicheng concedes. “But you need to stop yelling. Also, I'm dressing myself.”

“Fine by me. No big deal,” Yuta grins, disappearing into his room to get ready for the show, as if he didn't just spend fifteen minutes trying to convince Sicheng to come with him. 

Dongyoung shifts his glare to Sicheng instead. “That means I have to go too.”

Sicheng beams. “It does.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don't.”

Dongyoung doesn't. Sicheng was going to go anyway, since their mutual friend Taeyong said he'd be performing. He might not be the best with outward displays of affection, but Sicheng does like his friends a lot and wants to support them the way they support him, even if that means he has to occasionally forego gaming or a nap. 

They make it to the club as one of the first acts is finishing their set. Yuta doesn't seem too pressed about missing the first performer, so any dregs of guilt Sicheng might have stirred up quickly wash away. 

“Come on, let’s go find Taeyong,” Yuta says, pulling Dongyoung and Sicheng along by the wrist. Sicheng shakes himself free but Dongyoung begrudgingly adjusts Yuta's grip until they're holding hands. He glares at Sicheng when he pretends to retch, and that makes Sicheng smile more genuinely. 

Taeyong is by the back wall, chatting with Kun, and he brightens visibly when he sees their trio approaching. 

“You made it!” he crows. “Ten’s about to go up.”

“Oh good, we didn’t miss him,” Yuta says.

“I told you we’d be fine,” Dongyoung says, and Yuta swings their joined hands back and forth with a wide and only somewhat unsettling grin. Kun glances over at Sicheng, who shrugs at this relatively new development. “You’re up after him, right?”

Taeyong nods excitedly. “I’m really glad all of you could make it.”

Yuta slings an arm around Sicheng’s shoulders, and he’s too fast for Sicheng to shrug him off like he usually does. “It took a while to convince them, but here we are.”

“Ah, but they wouldn’t have actually missed this,” Kun says, and he’s not wrong.

“If you’re going to hang off me, you can at least buy me a drink,” Sicheng says to Yuta.

“Nah, I’ll spot you,” Taeyong says. “Yuta can buy Dongyoung’s drinks.”

“He’d better,” Dongyoung says, but his tone is belied by the way his ears go pink in the face of Yuta’s soft smile.

Kun leaves them to move closer to the stage when Jungwoo arrives so they can get a better view when Ten goes on. Taeyong leads Sicheng over to the bar, chattering happily about his friend Johnny, who is the MC for tonight’s event, and the rest of the lineup. Sicheng is grateful for the way Taeyong doesn’t push him to contribute more to the conversation, and he settles on a barstool to listen. They work well together — Taeyong is more open in his affections for his friends, but never pushes Sicheng, who he knows can be more reserved. He fills the spaces where possible and trusts Sicheng to meet him halfway when he can.

“You’ll be impressed,” Taeyong says. “Some of the kids are performing and I got to watch their rehearsals. They’re really good.”

Sicheng raises an eyebrow. “Kids?”

“Johnny keeps calling them my kids and it stuck,” Taeyong says, passing a drink from the bartender to Sicheng. “A couple of them are performing original songs and others have choreographed pieces to songs they’ve been really into lately. It’ll be nice. Yuta and Dongyoung look like they found a good spot to watch the show. You should join them whenever I go up. I’ll meet the rest of you back down here to watch the rest of the performances once I’m done. I think everyone else is hanging out backstage between sets so they can rest a bit.”

Sicheng nods, and leans forward expectantly when the lights go down and a tall man comes out to introduce the next act. Ten’s solo is as striking as Taeyong said it would be, from his outfit — pale and flowing — to the lighting, the backing track, and his vocals. Taeyong pats Sicheng’s knee excitedly, like he can’t contain his pride for his friends and has to let it out somehow, and Sicheng lets him.

Johnny introduces Taeyong next, after the roar of applause and praise for Ten dies down, and Taeyong trots up to the stage to climb on. Sicheng takes his cue to join Yuta and Dongyoung, who are still holding hands and do not appear to have talked about it yet. Dongyoung ignores Sicheng’s questioning look in favor of turning back to the stage. 

Taeyong’s solo is laid-back, with smooth R&B vibes and unexpected, but lovely, vocals mixed in with his rap. Taeyong bows at the end, face bright and smile radiant, and hops off the stage to receive high fives from the crowd on his way to rejoin his friends.

“And that was ‘Long Flight’ from our veteran performer Lee Taeyong,” says the MC, Johnny. “We have a special guest up next.”

Someone dressed in all black except for their emerald green jacket comes hurtling up the side staircase and skids to a stop just behind Johnny. “VOILA!” 

Johnny keeps talking and stops only when he hears, “Dude, I’m here,” from beside him.

“Oh.” Johnny turns back, laughs, and then throws his arm around the next performer. “Mark Lee.”

Sicheng almost spits out his drink and, as luck would have it, Dongyoung notices. He gives Sicheng a knowing look, which is offensive because his friend has no right to know so much about him and to be as good as Sicheng is at giving people judgmental stares.

“That was really good, Tae,” Yuta calls as the lights go down again and Taeyong squeezes in next to them. 

“Thanks! Oh, Sichengie, this is one of the kids I was telling you about. I think he was in one of your classes? Ten mentioned him. He’s really good,” Taeyong says. 

Sicheng just nods and knocks back the rest of his drink to eliminate the risk of spilling any of it. He barely has enough time to trot back to the bar and hand over his empty glass before the opening beats of the next track start to play. He makes it back to his friends just as a spotlight opens up to reveal Mark, crouched down in the center of the stage. Taeyong nudges Sicheng in the side excitedly before turning his attention back to the front.

Mark rises up with a loud whoop and Sicheng is abruptly reminded of classes, and how loud and enthusiastic students seem to become once they’re more comfortable around each other and around their TAs. Honestly, Sicheng loves being a TA — he didn’t at first, and Kun and Minghao had to bully him into applying for a teaching assistant position with the dance instructors,  _ and _ they had to drag him to class on his first day — but once the semester is over, it’s like Sicheng flips to another chapter of a book and he stops thinking about his students entirely. Of course there are special cases, like Renjun, Yangyang, and Ten, but he knew them before they signed up for courses where Sicheng was a regular TA. 

But Mark Lee starts rapping on stage and Sicheng is thrown back a couple of semesters, remembering Mark’s loud laugh and the way he’d fight back fondly, but rarely with any real heat when his friends teased him. Sicheng blinks a couple of times, trying to reconcile the mental image of Mark Lee in Chinese Folk Dance 1101 with the Mark Lee on stage in front of him. There’s cheetah print accents on the sides of his jeans and rips at his knees, and as the stage lights sweep across him, it looks like he might be wearing eyeshadow. He watched Mark run around during a practice session with his shirt inside out  _ and  _ backwards, but here he is now, performing with undeniable stage presence.

“Let me see your hands clap!” Mark calls, and the crowd responds with a roar of enthusiasm.

Yuta turns to look at Sicheng. “We’re clapping, he’s clapping! Why aren’t you clapping?”

Sicheng isn’t sure — he looks down at his own hands and then shakes his head at Yuta.

“Even Dongyoung is clapping!” 

Yuta reaches out like he’s going to help and Dongyoung slaps his hands away lightly. “Leave him alone. I think he’s gay panicking.”

“He’s what?” asks Taeyong, shouting to be heard over the crowd and the sound of Mark almost growling into his microphone, and Dongyoung just shrugs. “Okay? Never mind. Sichengie, you’ve got to watch this dance break! I watched him rehearse a few times and it’s so good!”

Sicheng almost asks what he’s talking about, but Mark whoops again and okay, clearly this is what has Taeyong so excited, practically vibrating in place beside him with pride. Mark’s footwork has Sicheng itching to take Ten up on his offer to join some of his dance classes as a guest, and the mic flip in the middle is a nice touch.

“One step, double step. This boy, going too fast,” Mark raps, and Sicheng can’t help but agree. Mark ends his act with a final howl and the crowd, impossibly, goes wilder than before. The lights go down and then he’s gone.

“Come on,” Taeyong says, looping an arm through Sicheng’s. “We’ve got a short intermission before the larger groups go up to perform. We have to go catch up with everyone before they get tied up again.”

The three of them follow Taeyong because, well, he’s Taeyong and he cannot be denied most things. Sicheng is pretty sure he’s not operating at full mental capacity right now either, so he can’t even put up a token protest. They see Ten first, arms around Kun’s and Jungwoo’s waists. He hasn’t stopped grinning since he got offstage, and he gives Sicheng a look that eerily resembles the one Dongyoung has turned on him.

“Yes, yes, I was wonderful. Thank you,” says Ten, and Yuta rolls his eyes, flicking him in the forehead. Neither Kun nor Jungwoo move to defend their boyfriend, which only makes Yuta laugh and Ten pout harder.

“Has anyone seen Johnny or Mark?” Taeyong asks, and Ten tips his chin up to gesture behind them. Taeyong barely has time to brace himself for impact before Johnny picks him up and swings him around.

“You were wonderful! Put people on cloud nine for sure,” he says, and Taeyong starts smacking Johnny on the arm until he sets him back down. “How’s everyone enjoying the show?”

“It’s loud,” says Dongyoung, but he’s smiling.

“Good, good,” Johnny laughs. “What did we think of — wait, where’d he go? Mark? Oh, MARK!”

There’s an answering call of “POLO!” across the room and that’s all the warning they get before Mark comes bounding over to them like an overexcited puppy. Johnny immediately tucks him under his arm and shakes him a bit.

“What did we think of Marcus here?”

“Oh my god, can we not do this? Why do you have to be so embarrassing all the — oh.”

“Oh?” says Johnny, but Mark’s not looking up at him any more. He’s looking at Sicheng.

Jungwoo clears his throat before the lull in conversation can become truly awkward. “Well, I thought ‘Talk About’ was great.”

Mark shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts and turns to look at Jungwoo instead, smile brightening beyond what should be humanly possible. “Thanks, hyung! I’m glad you could make it.”

While Sicheng is thankful for whatever Jungwoo is doing, it just means Dongyoung and Yuta can focus on giving Sicheng piercing looks. Johnny, who Sicheng has only heard about in passing from mutual friends, is also watching him curiously. Sicheng steps closer to Taeyong to focus on his enthusiasm for the solo and pairs performances instead.

“—and the mic flip finally worked,” Mark is saying. “Donghyuck will tell you he helped me practice that, but really all he did was yell at me until I managed to catch it upright three times in a row.”

“It’s not like you’re not coordinated,” Kun scoffs, and Sicheng can’t help it. He snorts.

Mark glances over at him and his smile turns sheepish. “Most of the time,” he says.

“Oh!” Johnny lets go of Mark. “Oh, I see.”

Mark elbows him in the side. “No, you don’t.”

From there, it’s easier to relax, if only a little — especially if Sicheng doesn’t focus for too long on Mark’s eye makeup and highlighter. It’s like he’s glowing, and not just because he’s in his element here. The lights keep catching on his high cheekbones, making his face glitter. Sicheng chooses instead to listen as the rest of the group chatters away. Conversations split off and people move around until everything feels calmer and no one is shouting to be heard over the ambient noise in the club.

“I’ve never seen you at one of these shows before,” Mark says quietly, from where he’s drifted to stand next to Sicheng, and Sicheng takes a deep breath before turning to look at him. He’s not nervous, this is totally fine. He talks to people all the time.

“Are you asking me if I come here often?” Sicheng raises a brow and Mark laughs.

“Yes and no,” Mark says, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes now on the ground.

“I’ve never been to this club before, but I’ve gone to a few of the shows where Ten and Taeyong have performed. I’ve been to a few open mics as well, for Dongyoung and Jaehyun and a few others.”

“Small world,” Mark nods. “I keep forgetting all the performing arts circles overlap so much.”

“Me too.” Sicheng catches Dongyoung’s eye again, and when he jerks his head toward Mark, Sicheng realizes he still looks shy, almost. “You, um, your performance was great. The footwork in your dance break was pretty impressive. Honestly, the whole song was good.”

Mark finally meets Sicheng’s gaze again with a small smile. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

“You work hard,” Sicheng says with a shrug. “It pays off in class and outside of the classroom.”

Mark laughs again. “I wasn’t sure if you remember any of the students when you’re no longer their TA. It’s been a couple of semesters, yeah?”

“You were in the same class as Ten. If I completely forgot, he’d probably try to poison me. If he tried to physically fight me though, I think I’d win.”

“He’s — well, he’s kind of scary?” Mark says, voice cracking a little at the end.

Sicheng snorts. “Yeah, but I’ve known him long enough to know the ways he plays dirty.”

Mark nods. “I know how that is. The friends I’m performing with next can be, uh, dangerous. Sometimes. It’s fine though. It’s chill. It’s like you said — once you get to know people better, you have a better idea of what to expect.”

“Right,” Sicheng says. “You know — I wasn’t really expecting this from tonight’s show.”

“What?”

Sicheng shrugs and gestures back toward the stage, aiming for nonchalant but falling short. “You? Up there in your element? Not exactly what I expected.”

“Maybe not,” Mark says, “but I’ve got layers, kind of like an onion, I guess. Maybe you would like to get to know them better sometime?”

Off to the side, Sicheng hears Yuta stage-whisper, “Is he talking about his clothes? Is he going to peel those off like you’d peel an onion?” and Mark’s eyes go impossibly wide.

“That’s — no, I — that’s not what I meant!” Mark stammers, holding his hands up. Sicheng is going to kill Yuta, even if that will make the rest of his friends sad. He’ll do it and Yuta will know it is what he deserves.

“Tell him what you really want!” Yuta calls.

“Please ignore him,” Sicheng says, feeling his face heat up even as he gives Yuta the finger.

“I — well, I didn’t mean  _ that _ , but I would, um. Not now, obviously, but maybe we — would you like to get to know each other better sometime?” Mark nervously raises a hand like he’s going to run it through his hair, but he stops and takes a deep breath instead. On the exhale, he meets Sicheng’s gaze and adds, “Like on a date? Would you like to go out with me sometime?”

Sicheng stares at Mark, trying to process. Mark stares right back, expression balancing on the knife’s edge between hopeful and deeply nervous. Sicheng blinks first, a sure sign of the onset of weakness, and out of the corner of his eye he sees people heading back to the stage, signaling the imminent end of intermission.

“After,” Sicheng says, and Mark cocks his head to one side, eyebrows drawing up in confusion. “I’ll give you my answer after.”

“Okay,” Mark says, not missing a beat this time. “I’ll see you then,” he nods, and then he’s gone.

Sicheng braces himself in the wake of Mark’s departure, and for good reason.

“What just happened?” Taeyong asks slowly, but Ten and Dongyoung’s responses are anything but calm. 

“WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY YES?” Ten all but screeches, and Dongyoung grips Sicheng by the shoulders so he can shake him and repeat Ten’s question. 

“What just happened?” Taeyong repeats.

Sicheng tries to shrug Dongyoung off, but any attempt to dislodge him just gives Ten more real estate to poke. “It’s fine,” Sicheng tries. “It’s not a big deal. Can you please calm down?”

Yuta narrows his eyes. “It’s not a big deal — it’s a huge deal! Why are you acting like you’re not even a little bit flattered? That was both embarrassing and cute as shit, even when he almost implied he wanted you to take off —”

“No! What the fuck? No. He was just being nice,” Sicheng says firmly. “It’s fine.”

“I mean, he is nice, but he did explicitly say he was asking you out,” Jungwoo says, and he’s got Sicheng there. “Also, there’s nothing wrong with liking him. I mean, obviously you don’t have to accept, but for what it’s worth — and just in case you’re worried, since you’ve only really seen him in an academic setting — Mark is very nice. Kind of dumb sometimes, but only a little bit. Cute too.”

“Was that why you said you’d give him an answer later?” Yuta asks. “Because you were worried?”

“You don’t have to worry,” Ten says. “This is actually kind of perfect, really, since evidently you’re both kind of dumb sometimes.”

“I’m not worried!” Sicheng protests. He’s only saved from more questions and commentary by Johnny’s reappearance on stage to finally introduce the last block of performances for the night.

“This isn’t over,” Ten says, pinching Sicheng in the side, but he lets it go for now. 

Sicheng is begrudgingly grateful for the break, though he suspects part of the reprieve is thanks to Kun stepping around and sandwiching Ten in between himself and Jungwoo. Sicheng takes a deep, steadying breath, and turns back to the stage, determined to tune everything else out. 

They get to see everything from covers to pieces with original music and choreography. Johnny, who looked excited about every act for the entire event, somehow manages to look even more excited as he introduces the next original song and the final performers of the night: a line of seven boys who file onto the stage to line up at the center, heads bowed. Mark stands at the front, and he tips his chin up just enough to peer over the heads of the crowd to the tech crew in charge of the sound board, waiting for the cue to start. It's only for a brief moment, and Mark ducks his head back down quickly. He can’t hide his smile, though, and it's terribly endearing.

The music finally starts, and the seven people on stage launch into motion immediately, movements ebullient, precise, and controlled. The stomping of their feet in time with the beat is deeply satisfying, and it’s easy to get swept up in it with the rest of the crowd. They look like they’re having so much fun, and their energy is contagious. Sicheng feels a weight lift off his shoulders completely by the second chorus. He is not sure exactly what is going to happen when Mark comes back — except maybe some embarrassment, courtesy of his friends — but he thinks maybe it’ll be okay. 

The performance ends, the lights come back up, and Sicheng’s optimism takes a huge hit when he makes the mistake of turning back to his friends. He tries to school his features into something practiced and impassive, but it’s too late.

“I knew it!” Yuta cries. “You  _ were _ flattered! You think he’s cute!”

“Don’t even try to look calm!” Ten adds. “We know you.”

“Even your ears are turning red,” says Kun, effectively wiping away any gratitude Sicheng had felt toward him.

“They are!” Yuta says, delighted. Immediately, no fewer than three people are trying to pinch Sicheng’s ears or his cheeks if they can reach. 

Sicheng fakes left and then darts right, trying to make his escape. He doesn’t get far though, even as he weaves in between groups of people milling about. Sicheng bumps into Taeil only a couple of meters away and can’t just leave without saying hello. Taeil is wearing his after-work clothes, the ones he changes into instead of trying to wear his scrubs home. He grins and pulls Sicheng into a hug, and Sicheng briefly entertains the thought of hiding from the rest of his friends by sticking with Taeil. 

“Sorry I got here so late. I got to see the group performances, but it was packed when I came in so I didn’t get a chance to come look for you until now. I couldn’t really see over the crowd.” Taeil laughs and then asks, “But where is everyone else?”

“Oh, you know. They’re around,” Sicheng says, quickly realizing that Taeil is not going to be much help once he notices something is up, which would be right about now. It’s too late for him to make up a reason to take off again through the crowd. 

“Wait, why are you so red? Are you feeling okay?” Taeil asks, concerned. He grips Sicheng’s chin in one hand and turns his face this way and that, studying him curiously. It buys the rest of their friends enough time to catch up to them.

“I would say I can’t believe you ran away, but I can,” Dongyoung sighs. “Oh, hi, Taeil-hyung.”

“Hi,” Taeil says, releasing Sicheng’s face, satisfied that he’s not ill, but clearly very intrigued by what is going on. Sicheng resigns himself to whatever fate they have in store for him. 

“Why were you running?” Taeil asks him.

“I wasn’t  _ running _ ,” Sicheng says, but Ten cuts him off.

“Well, you see, there’s this boy —”

“There’s no —”

“— and he asked our darling Sicheng out during intermission.”

“Who’s this boy?” Taeil asks Sicheng.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Sicheng groans and briefly covers his face with his hands. Nothing he says matters. There’s no point.

“He didn’t want to talk about it before intermission ended either,” Dongyoung says, rolling his eyes. “He said he’d give his answer later.”

“It’s Mark Lee,” Yuta whispers.

Taeil looks confused for a moment, but then his eyes widen. “Wait, I know Mark! That’s Donghyuck’s friend. I see them together all the time. He’s so cute. Sichengie, why didn’t you just...answer him?”

“I’m still trying to figure that out,” Taeyong says.

“Before today, I would say you didn’t really have a type, but now that I’m thinking about Mark, I would say maybe you do,” Taeil muses.

“You don’t know me!”

“Oh, but I really do,” Taeil laughs. “We did live together for two years before I graduated.”

“You know, maybe it was better when you couldn’t find us in the crowd,” Sicheng says.

“Hey!”

“Sorry, what was that? I couldn’t hear you down there.”

“As much joy as this brings me, I’m going to need someone to separate them way before Mark gets back,” Dongyoung says.

Taeyong sighs and reaches for Taeil to try and pull him away, but Taeil shakes his head. “He’s really coming back to see you? You  _ really  _ told him you would give him an answer later instead of, you know, saying something then?”

“Taeil, you give him too much credit sometimes,” Yuta says, and Sicheng lunges at him. Taeil saves Yuta’s life by throwing an arm around Sicheng’s waist and holding him back.

“I, for one, am giving you just enough credit to know that this is going to be interesting,” Ten says.

Sicheng wrinkles his nose. “That’s not comforting at all.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

“Ugh, fine,” Sicheng grumbles. To Taeil, he adds, “You can let go of me. Yuta-hyung is safe for now.” 

Taeil acquiesces, stepping back to stand next to Taeyong. He opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, the volume of conversation in the club increases suddenly.

“Oh, I think they’re all done backstage,” Taeyong says.

“Good,” Ten grins, but as soon as they see Mark approaching, Kun and Jungwoo each grab one of Ten’s arms and start dragging him back toward the bar.

“No, wait! I need to see what happens!” Ten protests. “It’s important!”

“You can watch from back here,” Kun says. To Sicheng, he adds, “You’re welcome.”

“Thanks?” Sicheng says weakly.

“We,” Yuta says, gesturing at Dongyoung and himself, “are not going anywhere and you are not backing down from giving him an answer.”

“I wasn’t going to—”

“No, no, I know you,” Yuta cuts him off. “Just last week, I watched you pretend for a whole night that you didn’t speak Korean well to get out of having to talk to Dongyoung’s classmates.”

“He what — you did what?”

Yuta flaps a hand at Dongyoung impatiently. “Not now. Don’t worry about it, they still loved him and even when they find out he’s fluent, it’ll probably be fine. You know how it is — all he has to do is give them that look,” he says, and then he turns his attention back to Sicheng. “No, don’t give _me_ that look. I’m not caving. It won’t work on me tonight, I mean it. I’m watching you. And anyway, you don’t want to make Taeyong sad by not giving Mark an answer.”

“Wait, why are you bringing me into this?” Taeyong asks. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“Not  _ now _ ,” Yuta repeats. “Stop interrupting me. I’m trying to make a point here.”

Taeyong opens his mouth to protest, but Taeil loops an arm through his and starts tugging him toward a less crowded part of the club. Taeyong goes, but not without glaring at Yuta.

“ _ Are _ you trying to make a point? It’s not helping,” Sicheng says.

“Yes, I am! I am being so helpful right now.”

“No, you’re really not,” Sicheng insists.

Yuta pokes the center of Sicheng’s chest with a finger. “Yes, I am.” When Yuta tries to poke him again, Sicheng catches him by the wrist and tries to push him away.

“Um. What’d I miss?”

They turn in unison, suddenly aware of how close together they’re standing, and Yuta takes a step back. Mark is waiting no more than a meter or two away, eyes flickering curiously between Yuta and Sicheng. Without looking, Sicheng can guess Dongyoung and Taeyong are probably not even pretending to be paying attention to anything else.

The extra eyes on him make it hard for him to think, so naturally, and with next to no input from his brain, Sicheng says, “Yes.”

“What?”

“I said,” Sicheng swallows thickly, “yes.”

“I missed — how is that — oh. Oh. Okay! Yes, cool. Alright.” Mark laughs nervously, blushing, and the club lighting paints him a rosy gold. Sicheng watches, fascinated, as Mark ducks his head a little, none of the confident swagger of his stage persona present. His smile is wobbly, but it’s still wide, warm, and toothy. All Sicheng can really do is smile back, helpless.

The moment isn’t ruined by the loud, fake sob of joy from Yuta, who is still standing within arm’s reach, but it is interrupted. 

“Hold that thought,” Sicheng says pleasantly to Mark, before turning too fast for Yuta to run away or dodge. Yuta barely has time to flinch before Sicheng has him in a chokehold. He turns back to Mark, still holding a squirming Yuta in place, and says, “Maybe we should exchange numbers or something.”

Mark nods excitedly, and Sicheng’s smile widens without his permission. “Do you have KaTalk like everyone else does?”

“Let me put in my ID,” Sicheng says, and takes the proffered phone from Mark. “I’ll message myself.”

“Get it,” Yuta says, with no sense of self preservation. Sicheng tightens his hold but his smile doesn’t falter. Mark laughs, the sound loud and sweet, but not loud enough to drown out the loud whoop from Ten in the background.

“You’re next, Ten,” Sicheng calls over his shoulder. Yuta cackles against his side.

“I sure hope so, baby!”

Sicheng can’t find it in himself to be annoyed, not when Mark is beaming at him as he takes his phone back.

**

Yuta refuses to let Sicheng leave the house without changing his shirt again, even going as far as to sit on the discarded choices so he can’t snatch them up. Sicheng only tries once, jerking back and rubbing his arm where Yuta pinches him.

“I know you said it’s not a big deal, but it’s also not a big deal for us to want you to look hot,” Yuta explains. Dongyoung laughs from where he’s curled up in their common area. He’d long since abandoned Sicheng to Yuta’s mercy, or lack thereof.

“I just want you to know that I hate both of you,” Sicheng says through gritted teeth. Still, he takes the offered shirt and changes into it.

“Four buttons,” Yuta says, and Sicheng raises an eyebrow at him. “Okay, three. Leave three open. You’ve got collarbones, why not show them off?”

“Yuta, are you sure you aren’t trying to help Sicheng seduce  _ you _ ?” Dongyoung calls.

“Why would I do that when I’ve got you?” Yuta shouts back, face splitting into a wide grin when Dongyoung squawks with embarrassment.

“Do you?” Sicheng asks, and Yuta flaps a hand at him. 

“We can talk about that later. Right now, you’ve got a  _ date _ .”

Sicheng balls up the shirt he wasn’t allowed to wear and chucks it directly into Yuta’s face.

He makes it to the restaurant a couple of minutes early, thanks to Dongyoung getting up and physically holding Yuta back from fighting Sicheng. It's a small place, almost a hole in the wall, easy to pass by on the street unless you’re paying attention. The family who owns the restaurant is good at picking up recipes from various regions of China and Taiwan and it never fails to remind Sicheng and his other friends of home. It’s been a while since he’s been back, and he has definitely missed the food. Sicheng would have been surprised Mark suggested the place, tucked away as it is on such a busy street, but then he remembers that Mark hangs out with Renjun and Yangyang, who Sicheng knows are regulars. 

Mark is already there, leaning against the wall a few feet away from the door, alternating between looking at his phone and squinting out at the sunlit street. When he sees Sicheng crossing the road, he straightens up and can’t seem to fight down the huge smile that spreads across his face. Objectively, Sicheng knows he hasn’t eaten anything today that could disagree with him and that he doesn’t have acid reflux, but it certainly feels like something terrible is happening to him. Figurative butterflies in his stomach would surely burn less. If he notices Mark’s eyes dropping for a second to his exposed collarbones, Yuta never has to know.

“It’s good to see you,” Mark says, genuine and earnest. 

“You too,” Sicheng manages to reply. 

They’re seated quickly, and before either of them has a chance to place a drink order or glance at the menu, a small platter with two still-steaming dumplings is deposited on the table between them. Sicheng doesn’t recognize the server, but it looks like Mark does.

“We didn’t order — Yangyang’s not coming today,” Mark says. “What are these for?”

“I know. He told me,” says the server with a shrug. “Those are for you, on the house.”

Mark narrows his eyes at him. “What do you mean, he told you? What did Yangyang tell you, Dejun?”

Dejun laughs. “That’s none of your business. Take your time with the menus, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Mark frowns at the dumplings, brow deeply furrowed, and Sicheng can’t muffle his surprised laugh enough for Mark not to notice.

“I don’t think they’re poisoned,” Sicheng says. 

Mark still looks a little annoyed, so Sicheng wiggles a pair of chopsticks in front of him to get his attention, pops one of the dumplings into his own mouth, and puffs his cheeks out. It’s as effective of a distraction as it is when Sicheng does this to his friends — the corners of Mark’s mouth curl up and the frown slowly melts away.

“See? They’re fine.” He nudges the dish closer to Mark and is pleased when the remaining tension drains from his shoulders.

When Dejun comes back to take their orders, it’s with a pot of oolong tea and another small, complimentary dish. “ _ Har gow _ ,” Dejun says when Mark peers into the steamer to see what’s inside. Mark looks between the dish and Dejun a couple of times before sighing and offering the first one to Sicheng.

They order enough food to split between them that by the end, Sicheng is starting to feel like he’s going to need a nap if he’s going to try to get anything else done today. It doesn’t help that Dejun keeps sneaking more dumplings onto their table.

“What are we going to do? Say no?” Mark says. “But also, I think I’m going to need coffee after this...and maybe a walk as well. Do you, um — would you want to come with me?”

Sicheng has two options: 1) he could go home and take a nap, aided by and content with the amount of food they’ve just eaten or 2) he could go on a walk just because Mark Lee asked him to. It takes significantly less time than normal to decide that maybe he doesn’t need to take a nap after all. He has a feeling that right now, wherever he is, Dongyoung is unsettled by this disturbance in the universe. Sicheng ignores the voices of Dongyoung and Yuta in his head, asking  _ are you sure about this _ in different tones, and nods at Mark.

“Are you ready, then?” Mark asks, folding his napkin and placing it neatly on the table.

“Don’t we still have to —”

“About that — remember when I got up earlier?”

“To look for the — you went up to pay on your way to the restroom, didn’t you?” Sicheng crosses his arms. “You didn’t have to do that.”

To his credit, Mark at least tries to look apologetic. “I wanted to, though.”

Sicheng is reluctantly impressed. Usually, when he goes out with friends, there’s a verbal and sometimes physical fight over who will and will not be paying. One time, he watched Chenle stuff the check down his shirt until Kun could claim it from him, all so no one else could see it and try to pay instead. Sicheng is not sure what Kun bribed Chenle with, but it saved their group from getting kicked out of the restaurant for starting a full out brawl over the check.

“Thank you,” Sicheng says, and Mark’s responding eye smile is just as upsetting as ever. He lets Mark lead the way out, and once they’re through the doors, he falls into step beside him.

“You know, I didn’t actually think this far ahead,” Mark admits “Where do you want to go?”

Again, usually the answer is  _ home _ , where Sicheng can lay down and rest. They just finished midterms and he’s been exhausted from studying and practice sessions for his dance classes. Now, he’s only sleepy in the contented way that happens after a full meal, made better by the pleasant company. Sicheng studies Mark’s profile and watches him run fingers through his hair. Not for the first time, Sicheng finds himself wanting to reach out and touch, to see if it’s as soft as it looks. It’s surprising, because usually Sicheng takes months — sometimes years — to warm up to someone and be comfortable with casual closeness.

Instead of acting on the impulse, Sicheng turns away again. “Are we not heading toward the river?”

Mark stops abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk and spins around slowly in a full circle, taking in their surroundings. “Oh. We are. I didn’t notice. Is that okay?”

Sicheng snorts. “Do you do this a lot?”

“Do what?”

“Get lost?”

“I’m not lost!” Mark says, face red.

“So that’s a yes,” Sicheng laughs. “Of course you do.”

“I see how it is. I buy you lunch and you make fun of me,” Mark says, but his offended tone is belied by the fond smile threatening to overtake his face.

“My respect and affection cannot be bought,” Sicheng says.

Mark softens. “I wouldn’t try,” he says. “Those are priceless.”

Now Sicheng can’t look at him, more than a little afraid of seeing whatever his own face is doing in response, reflected back at him in Mark’s enormous eyes. Instead, he crosses the street, staying a few steps ahead, and starts to cut through a park on their way to the river. He’s grateful for a distraction in the form of a frisbee sailing past them. 

“Look!” he says. “Dogs!”

An Akita catches the frisbee and takes off again, bounding back toward its owner. One of the other dogs notices Sicheng and Mark on the park trail. It glances back and forth quickly between its owner and the pair of newcomers, before trotting toward them, tail wagging rapidly. Sicheng waits for the owner in the distance to spot them, calls out a polite greeting, and then drops into a squat so he can hold his hand out  for the dog to sniff. When the dog presses its enormous head into Sicheng’s hand, he turns excitedly to look for Mark, who he was positive was right behind him.

He was, but he’s still there, a few steps away. Sicheng rubs the dog’s ears and shuffles around so he can peer up at Mark inquisitively. The dog comes with him, laying down and rolling onto its side so Sicheng can rub its belly. “You okay?” Sicheng asks Mark.

Mark stuffs his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “Yes,” he says. “Maybe.”

Sicheng looks down at the dog, whose tongue is lolling out and tail is thumping rhythmically against the grass, and back up at Mark, who is one long line of nearly concealed tension. “Oh no,” Sicheng says. “Do you not like dogs? We can go. I didn’t —”

“No! No, I think they’re nice. I’m just — that’s a really big dog,” Mark says, voice small.

He’s not wrong, but this enormous dog also looks like it’s seconds away from falling asleep just from belly rubs, so now is as good a time as any to coax Mark into coming a little closer. “Take your time,” Sicheng says, and smiles encouragingly when Mark does. 

Sicheng starts to assure Mark that the dog is very sweet, but the dog in question chooses that time to get up and rest its head on Sicheng’s knee. He watches in dismay as the dog proceeds to drool all over the nice pants he picked out for his date.

“Ah, mood,” Mark laughs.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“I don’t believe you, but okay,” Sicheng frowns. “Get over here, then.”

Mark exhales slowly and crouches down next to him, angled so the dog can see him but still close to Sicheng. The dog cocks its head to the side to look at Mark, and its tail starts wagging harder. More slobber drips down Sicheng’s knee and onto his shins, and Sicheng sighs heavily but fondly.

Mark offers his hand up for inspection, fingers curled loosely into a fist, palm down, and he only startles a little when the dog presses its nose to his knuckles. When the dog licks his hand, Mark lets out a surprised giggle. Sicheng turns to look at his face and the expression of unadulterated wonder sparks something sharp and almost uncomfortably warm in his chest.

“Good dog,” Mark says, delighted, shuffling closer so he can squat more comfortably to pet it, and Sicheng looks down at the spaces where their thighs brush. Mark leans into Sicheng, just a little, and his eyes curve until they close from the force of his smile. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Sicheng breathes out, and the spark flickers. Sicheng thinks maybe — just maybe — whatever this is has the potential to be more than just a passing crush. Mark laughs, pushing the dog’s face away gently when it tries to lick his chin, and the spark fans into a flame.

**

It’s late and the day has been so long that Sicheng feels weary and heavy down to his bones. He's barely halfway home, cutting through an alley to shorten his trip like usual, but he's already dreading having to get up in the morning. It's late enough that the streets have been mostly empty so far, but Sicheng probably should have checked first before stepping out of the alley and onto the sidewalk. He doesn't though, checking instead that his phone and wallet are still in his pockets, and that's why Sicheng collides with a moving object the moment he steps out. 

Sicheng is confused but grateful for the hands gently steadying him because his sense of balance is shot after such a long day, and if he'd fallen over, he might not have gotten back up for a while. He blinks and the image of what he walked into resolves itself into a person. Sicheng blinks a couple more times and then he recognizes them. 

“This isn't usually how this goes,” says Mark. 

“No,” Sicheng agrees, and he marvels at how hyper-aware he is of Mark’s hands on his shoulders. Once it’s clear neither of them is in immediate danger of falling over, Mark steps back, taking the warmth with him. Sicheng lists forward a little at the loss, unable to help himself. The flicker of a flame from their date is back, and Sicheng stuffs his hands into his pockets instead of pressing one against his sternum.

“Um, how have you been?” Sicheng asks, clearing his throat. A few weeks have passed since they got lunch together and went to the river for a long walk. They still talk, but the past week in particular has been full of more radio silence than conversation.

“Busy,” Mark laughs. He runs a hand through his hair, and the hood of his sweatshirt falls back across his shoulders. His hair is starting to curl at the ends, and it looks terribly soft and fluffy. To top it off, he's wearing glasses, round and thin-framed. Sicheng swallows past a lump in his throat. He's seen Mark in a variety of states — rushing around campus, trying and succeeding in not dozing off during class, running around for Chinese Folk Dance 1101, and even dressed up at the club and for their lunch date — but he's never seen him looking quite so  _ soft _ . 

“I want to ask if you finally got your vision checked but,” Sicheng trails off, gesturing at Mark’s face.

Mark's small smile turns teasing, which is incredibly unfair. “I'm good. These are real. I’ve got this.” He taps the side of his glasses and then shoots finger guns at Sicheng, who experiences the urge to fire them back, which has never happened to him before. 

“This time.”

“Yeah.” Standing in the middle of the sidewalk in the middle of the night, looking at Mark, who is looking right back doesn't feel as strange as Sicheng thinks it should. 

“I should—”

“I was—”

They start and stop speaking at the same time.

“Go ahead,” Mark says. 

“No, it's fine. What were you going to say?”

“I uh — I haven't eaten yet, and I don't know if you have either, but are you hungry?” Mark asks. 

Sicheng glances down at himself and then back up at Mark. He shrugs. 

“You don't know?” Mark asks, eyes crinkling around the corners as he smiles. 

Sicheng shrugs again. “I could be persuaded.” He knows it's the right thing to say when Mark bounces up and down on his heels. 

“There’s a 24/7 convenience store nearby, and they have small tables in the back.”

“Ramen?” Sicheng asks, and Mark nods excitedly. How he has this much energy at this hour, Sicheng may never know. 

Mark opens up on the walk over, telling Sicheng about a project for one of his lyrical composition classes. Even with his winding train of thought, which accelerates and crosses back over itself with dizzying speed at times, Mark is still almost startlingly observant. He’s oblivious in some ways, yes, but when Sicheng doesn't understand a certain term or isn't following along well, he’ll circle back and explain it again a different way, patient and earnest as ever. Sicheng doesn’t even have to say anything. Mark just seems to know, and to immediately move to fill the need, whatever it is. He’s constantly in motion, and his cheeks are a warm pink. If it were Yuta or Dongyoung in front of him, or if he and Mark were closer, Sicheng might act on the impulse to poke his cheek. As it is, he keeps his hands to himself. 

They politely greet the convenience store clerk, pick out their food, and stop to pay before heading to the back corner to heat everything up. Sicheng hands over his card before Mark can stop him, and refuses to back down to let Mark cover for them again. Thankfully, the clerk looks more amused than annoyed, influenced perhaps by the way Sicheng says, “You know, you can't get everything you want just by pouting,” which in turn makes Mark pout harder. Sicheng is not unaffected — objectively, Mark is extremely cute when he pouts — but years of living with Yuta have made him stronger against displays like this.

Sicheng starts to follow Mark over to a table, but he makes the mistake of touching the bottom of his steaming bowl of ramen and has to hustle past Mark so he can set it down without burning himself. Mark tries not to laugh — his face scrunches up and he tries to turn so Sicheng can’t look at him directly — but ultimately, he fails. 

“Disrespectful,” Sicheng says with no bite, and Mark settles down in the chair next to him with a soft giggle.

Things get steadily quieter from there, like the two of them are afraid to disturb the peaceful bubble within their corner of the store. The way Mark lights up when he takes his first bite of ramen is cute, as is the way he shakes with silent laughter at a joke Sicheng knows Dongyoung would punch him for telling. Sicheng finds himself talking more than he usually would with someone he’s still getting to know, but it’s easy when Mark seems so genuinely interested, face open and earnest. 

Eventually, Sicheng runs out of steam and also of ramen to eat when he needs to give himself an excuse to stop talking before he can say too much. He settles for watching Mark, who seems a little more subdued now. More thoughtful, maybe, contemplating his bowl and his chopsticks instead of looking at Sicheng. Or maybe he’s just tired. Sicheng is not feeling as weary as he was before physically running into Mark earlier, but maybe Mark’s energy is trending in the opposite direction. Sicheng hopes that whatever the case, it’s not his fault somehow.

But then Mark puts his chopsticks down, takes a deep breath, and looks Sicheng dead in the eyes. Sicheng just...stops altogether. Breathing? Who does that any more? Thinking? Not a chance.

“Would you want to grab breakfast with me? Tomorrow?” Mark blurts out, and all of the tension drains out of Sicheng at once. “Or if you don't eat breakfast, maybe we could just get coffee. It —”

“Mark,” Sicheng tries to cut in. 

“—doesn't have to be early. I know it's late now. If you're busy, though, that's —”

“Mark,” Sicheng says louder.

“—totally fine,” Mark trails off. “Sorry. What?”

“Yes, we can get breakfast tomorrow,” Sicheng laughs, giddy with relief. 

“Really?”

“Why do you look so surprised?”

“I'm not, I'm just — I'm just happy.” Mark smiles down at the table. “That's all.”

Now Sicheng is the one who can't look at him, not with a smile that soft. “Well, if that's all.”

There's a comfortable silence between them, during which Sicheng notices that they've migrated closer to each other without meaning to. Mark's leg is pressed against his now, where before, only their knees would brush against each other if one of them shifted enough while talking. The line of contact between them is warm. Sicheng lifts a hand and hesitates for a moment before reaching out to toy with a loose thread in the rip in the knee of Mark's jeans. Mark makes a soft, inquisitive noise, and Sicheng glances back up at him. 

The lighting in the convenience store is harsh and kind of shitty, but if he's being honest and maybe a little sappy, Sicheng would admit that none of that matters. Mark Lee still looks good. Beautiful, some might say. Not Sicheng, though. Not out loud at least.

“Is this okay?” Mark asks, voice low, leaning in. His eyes flick down to Sicheng's mouth just once; he maintains eye contact after, and he waits. Sicheng finds he can't look away. 

“Maybe,” Sicheng says. His voice comes out in more of a rasp than expected or intended and from here, he can see Mark's eyes darken. 

“Okay,” Mark says after a beat. He closes the gap between them slowly and carefully, just to brush his lips against Sicheng's cheek, before leaning back in his chair. Mark's smile spreads slowly, and Sicheng feels something fragile rattle in his chest. He fights down the urge to press his hand against it.

“Maybe — maybe tomorrow. In the morning, when we go for breakfast,” Sicheng says, and he didn't think Mark could smile any wider, but he does. 

“Okay,” he says again, and then holds out a hand, palm up between them. “Can I—?” he starts, looking between Sicheng's empty hands and his own. 

It's easy to place his hand in Mark's, to lace their fingers together. It's easier still to note the way Mark is blushing, pink warmth racing across his cheeks and down his neck, and to know Sicheng did that. 

“Come on,” Mark says warmly, standing and tugging him toward the door. “Let's go. I can walk you home.”

It's easy to follow, so Sicheng does. 

**Author's Note:**

> I watched a ton of dragon dance competition videos while writing for this fest. If you're looking for a good and fascinating spiral to go down, highlights include a [Luminous Dragon Dance](https://youtu.be/ch8mzXvoL9s) and the [4th Asian Dragon Dance & Lion Dance Championships](https://youtu.be/cp-pZoohO-4).
> 
> and now that reveals are past us, you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/telomirage)!


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